Chapter One
Jon assumed it had been a prank gift, at first. He thought of Tim, and for a moment his heart clenched. He stood in front of Rosie’s desk, clutching the package so tightly he bent the cardboard, trying to wrestle his emotions back into his body.
She was frowning at him, Jon realized. In other circumstances, he might be able to find it in himself to be embarrassed, but instead he gave her his best reassuring smile and handed the package back.
“Maybe someone mis-ordered. Would you keep it behind your desk for a few days? Maybe someone will come looking for it.”
Rosie looked away. “I already did. This arrived about five days ago. I didn’t want to, um, confront anyone about this, and I kept hoping someone would ask about it, but, uh, nothing.”
Jon winced. “I can assure you, I didn’t order this. But you’d like me to take it off your hands?”
Her sigh of relief was half a laugh. “Please. It’s just been taking up space in my desk. I can’t wait to get rid of it.”
— — —
It had been a surprisingly painless conversation, given the circumstances, and Jon found himself smiling as he headed back to his office.
The smile faded when he took another look at the box. There was no note, no writing on the package, nothing but a tastefully minimal description of the contents and a simple picture. He felt a bit like he should be wearing gloves to unwrap it, but the plastic film over the box was whole, the tape holding the lid shut pristine.
There was some feeling of disorientation that clung to it, and as Jon pulled the thing out of the box he found himself doubting that the packaging had been whole after all. (It was a silly thought, and Jon dismissed it quickly.)
The fleshlight wasn’t quite what Jon had expected. He looked at it curiously. The maker had paid a bizarre amount of attention to the silicone clit, and if the packaging hadn’t said nothing about it, Jon would be sure this was meant to resemble a T-dick.
Was someone at the Institute trying to tell him something? Make fun of him? Jon prickled for a moment with disgust. He’d fully transitioned as soon as he left home for Uni, and he hadn’t been misgendered for years. If there was anything about his history in the Institute records, it was for sure not something most employees had access to.
Elias could have sent it.
Jon actually, physically shook himself. This was not a productive line of thinking. If someone in the Institute was trying to send him a message, they probably wouldn’t have sent it without a note, and they certainly wouldn’t have just left it with Rosie and hoped she’d pass it along. It had been five days. This was almost certainly innocuous.
Jon took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders back, and picked it up.
He didn’t know much about toys, especially the kind he didn’t have the equipment for, so to speak, but Jon was pretty sure this type wasn’t usually this detailed. He had some vague idea that most fleshlights were simple and smooth and almost abstract. If that was true, it would mean this one was a specialty piece. Maybe it was custom.
Jon felt a little bad for whoever had bought it, if this was custom work. It would suck if something like that had ended up at the wrong place. Maybe the postal company had a mix up.
His eyes strayed back to the clit. It was the perfect size.
Just thinking about Freud made Jon want to throw something, but there was really no better description for the thing that had defined all of Jon’s limited sexuality than ‘oral fixation.’ He quickly checked that his door was locked, then went back to his desk, leaning back with his arms crossed tightly across his chest, irritated that he was even considering this.
It really was a very nice toy. Jon became aware of the way his tongue was flexing against the roof of his mouth, and forced it still with a scowl.
It had been a long time since Jon had interacted with any type of genitalia, but he’d enjoyed eating Georgie out. He even missed it sometimes.
He’d gotten out of bed that morning after a deeply unsatisfying night of tossing and turning, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d bite his nails off again. Just because he healed quickly now didn’t mean his nails grew back faster than before to cover exposed nailbeds.
It was just him in his office. The door was locked, but even so, Jon’s stomach shriveled with embarrassment as he picked up the toy and brought it to his mouth.
Jon could actually feel his body uncoil as he tightened his lips around the silicone clit. He slumped back in relief, totally focused on the texture of the thing in his mouth. Some part of him was aware he was sucking on this sex toy like a baby feeding from a bottle, which made his gut turn all over again, but it was only a few seconds before the flood of contentment washed the thought from his mind. Jon allowed himself to close his eyes.
That was when the thing first twitched.
Jon froze, before scrambling upright and grabbing the box. He turned it over frantically, and his eyes locked on the words he’d been praying to find: Batteries included. Jon wilted in relief. He wasn’t sure what he’d been worried about, but the memories of floods of worms had surfaced in his mind.
The toy must have some kind of squeezing mechanism or something that affected the exterior parts of it. Jon looked at the thing with renewed interest. He really, really wanted to put it back in his mouth, but curiosity won out, and Jon rubbed up and down the shaft with his thumb. To his delight, it twitched again. He popped two fingers into his mouth, licking over them before pushing into the opening and just running his fingers over the interior. When Jon ground his thumb into the clit again, the inside squeezed around his fingers, and it felt so realistic that Jon almost dropped the device. It actually startled a little laugh out of him. Maybe Jon needed to get out more, but that was kind of adorable.
He sucked the clit back into his mouth with a hum of contentment. It seemed like the silicone changed shape and texture slightly when it got warm, because it definitely felt puffier in his mouth than it had at first. Jon marveled again at the realism. The twitching continued every now and then, and Jon enjoyed trying to figure out what triggered it.
There was a moment where the toy seemed to pulse quickly for about ten seconds, and Jon felt some odd sense of accomplishment, like he’d passed a level in a video game. It was silly to feel flattered by the programmed responsiveness of a sex toy, but Jon let himself have this. He pulled his chair forwards and got out his work, still holding the toy to his mouth with one hand, the way Rosie sometimes did with her iced coffee. The thought made Jon smile.
Jon couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this relaxed during a workday. He took a few breaks throughout the day to give his jaw and lips a rest but picked it back up right afterwards. He also smuggled it to the work bathroom around lunchtime to wash out the spit he was sure was accumulating inside. Other than that, the day was sensory heaven. With his mouth so nicely occupied, Jon’s whole body felt light and loose, and he dug into his research with more enthusiasm than he’d had in ages. When it came time to leave for home, Jon packed the toy in his bag. He fell asleep quickly that night with his lips wrapped around its synthetic head.
The toy had “come” maybe a dozen times by the end of the day. Jon thought he might be in love.
Chapter Two
Martin had barely settled behind his desk as Peter Lukas’s assistant when he felt something hot and wet close over his dick. He jolted out of his seat with a yelp, frantically trying to feel for what had caused it.
He locked himself in the bathroom for a bit, just staring at his junk, trying to reconcile the phantom stimulation with reality. There was nothing there.
That was where he came for the first time. As he curled in on himself, hand futilely trying to block the stimulation to his oversensitive cock, Martin felt his first trickle of dread. He suffered through the next few minutes, then the next, then the next. Another orgasm began to build in his gut and he sank to the floor. After finishing a second time and suffering through the unending sucking, Martin wobbled back to his desk, determined to ignore it.
This was hell.
He’d heard stories about horny ghosts before, like anyone else with even a mild interest in the history of witch burnings, but that couldn’t be what this was. Could it?
The phantom touch picked back up again and he buckled forwards onto his desk. Whatever it was, it was talented. The force sucked him through another orgasm, and Martin sweated like a pig and screwed his eyes shut when it still didn’t stop.
He’d given up on getting any work done, only taking care to avoid sweating or crying on anything important. At some point, Martin entered a kind of haze, giving in to the sensation.
There had been a moment at the beginning when the thing at his dick had pushed up into him, and Martin found himself wishing it would do that again, if only to give his bruised bits a break. There had been times in his teens when he’d masturbated so vigorously his clit had felt tender and painful the next day, but even those times had never been as intense as this, and Martin dreaded to think what it would feel like if this continued tomorrow. He couldn’t continue to work in these conditions.
The thing tormenting him seemed to take breaks, maybe ten or twenty minutes at a time. Martin lived nearby. Maybe if he double-timed it, he could get home before it started up again.
It seemed to stop at the time Martin usually took his lunch break, and he wasted two precious minutes on hesitation before springing into action, grabbing his coat and his bag and praying that he wasn’t forgetting anything too important.
Martin hadn’t run so fast for so long since his days doing follow-up research.
He just barely didn’t make it. The stimulation started back up again as he was fumbling with his keys, and Martin dropped them, cursing. He stumbled into his flat, legs shaking, only just remembering to shut the door behind him before stripping; the fabric rubbing against his crotch was absolutely agonizing.
Martin panted and wobbled his way through preparing a nice cool bath. The cold water felt incredible against his flushed skin and aching nether regions. The next orgasm was one of the nicest Martin had had to endure that day, but this time the stimulation afterwards had tears welling up in his eyes. He rested his head against the rim of the tub and tried to drift away.
— — —
By evening, the sensation dropped to something more manageable, less ruthless sucking and more gentle heat, and Martin did his best to put himself back together. He sent an apology to Peter, explaining that he’d had to leave because of a sudden illness, and that he might have to take tomorrow off as well.
He went to bed without waiting for a response, unable to even put on underwear. Martin’s dick felt like a flaming coal between his legs. He spared a moment to laugh weakly about how absurd of a problem it was to have come too many times. Feeling bruised and wrung out, Martin curled up in bed and prayed he could sleep through the night without the sensation starting up again.
— — —
Martin had never been more grateful for anything in his life than he was for the ice packs in his freezer. Even before it had started up again the next morning, he was walking around with a pack down his pants, trying to ease the horrible oversensitivity.
There was absolutely no way this wasn’t some Entity bullshit. Martin was sick of it.
The email to Peter was a bit humiliating to write, even if Martin kept the details to a minimum, but he figured that out of all the people he knew, Peter was the most likely to know what was going on. By the time he pressed send, Martin was ready to delay breakfast in favor of another cold bath.
It wasn’t until midday that Martin checked his email again. To his surprise, Peter had responded.
— — —
“Bad night?”
“Bad everything else,” Martin grumbled, holding another ice pack to his bits.
Peter nodded, leaning back against Martin’s desk. “Now, I warned you that my diagnosis wouldn’t be super specific, but I can promise you that whatever you’ve got going on right now is the work of the Distortion.”
“The Distortion?” Martin’s mouth was hanging open. Honestly, part of him had been expecting Peter to tell him that this was all in his head, but actually knowing there was an Entity to blame for his state was as much a relief as a source of dread.
“Yup. Was that all you needed?”
“No—wait—is that all? Can you sense anything else?”
The man sighed. “I’m truly sorry, Martin, but that’s all I have for you. Good luck getting home.”
Martin slumped back, putting his hand over his eyes. The sucking had started up again. “Thanks, Peter.”
When he opened his eyes again, no one was there.
— — —
“Martin?”
“Shh!!” Martin was eyeing Jon’s closed door with trepidation. “Melanie, do you know where I can find Helen?”
She looked him over—sweaty face, tension around his eyes, awkward gait—only growing more and more concerned.
Martin groaned. “I’ve got a problem. It’s Distortion-related, apparently? Look, do you know where I can find Helen or not?”
Melanie shook herself. “Okay. Okay. Um, she’s usually not…She drops by sometimes, but on her own terms. I can let her know you wanted to see her, maybe, and ask her to visit you? I can’t promise that it will go well, but it’s the best I can do.”
Martin sighed. “That would mean a lot to me, Melanie, thank you.”
“Of course. Martin, are you…”
“What?”
She frowned. “Are you okay? You’re not in trouble or anything?”
“I don’t think so. Not other than whatever’s going on, at least.”
“I suppose that’s something.” The worry in her eyes hadn’t gone away, but she was doing her best to grin over it. “See you around?”
Martin tried to hide a wince. “Sure. See you.”
— — —
Jon frowned down at the toy. It seemed less responsive today. Had he lost his touch?
Bizarre blow to his confidence aside, the device continued to be utterly perfect. Jon felt like he knew its shape by heart. He’d explored a little, tried playing with the silicone labia minora, and even pressing his tongue into the opening at one point, but the clit was still his favorite.
It was almost comical how many breakthroughs he’d had in different cases in the past two days. Not for the first time, he wondered if he really should have taken Georgie more seriously when she suggested he get a neuropsychological evaluation. Based on what he’d read, there were a few different developmental disorders for which fidgeting drastically improved stress and poor concentration. That certainly described his recent experience.
He could think about that later. For now, he had several leads to follow. Jon rolled his tongue over the tip of the toy’s clit and felt a wave of satisfaction at the give, the texture, the way it moved in his mouth.
Chapter Three
Martin was just starting to get invested in the episode when he heard a door creak open behind him. Long fingers wrapped around the back of the couch to his left, lit up by the blue of his TV screen.
“This looks like quite the predicament.”
Martin gave a long suffering sigh and shuffled around to face her. His last ice pack had gone warm a couple hours ago and the rest were taking their sweet time to re-freeze. “Did you cause this?”
“I’ll forgive your bluntness. You must be quite…on edge.”
He grit his teeth. “Were you involved in the creation of my situation in any way?”
Helen’s grin widened. “Touchy, aren’t you?”
Martin just glared at her.
“If you insist. I doubt you’d figure it out on your own.” She flopped down next to him onto the couch and Martin pointedly ignored the incomprehensible wrinkles she brushed from her pantsuit.
“Figure out what?”
She sighed. “The Lonely has always been my least favorite. No sense of pizazz.”
“Okay?”
“I’d be happy to take you for myself, but there’s a different Avatar with his eye on you. I decided I could at least send you to him as a nice present.”
“But what does that have to do with—”
“A nice sex toy, addressed to him and everything. I never would have expected him to have this much enthusiasm, but I’ve enjoyed the way you’ve been stewing over it. With the way he’s always kissing up to his assistants, I should have known he’d love to suck dick.” She leaned back with a look of supreme smugness on her face.
Martin tangled with her words a minute, red-faced with the effort of thinking through more overstimulation. “How is that supposed to—Who are you…”
The thought broke over him like ice water. “His assistants. Jon?”
Helen was laughing now. Martin’s molars buzzed with it.
“You gave Jon a plastic voodoo clit, or, or something? For God’s sake, just tell me, Helen!”
She raised her eyebrows at him and slowly, deliberately tapped her nose.
Martin’s frustrated growl as she slipped back through her door was definitely loud enough for his neighbors to hear. He didn’t care.
— — —
It was too late at night to head back to the Archives and confront Jon. Martin grabbed a half-frozen ice pack from the freezer, squeezing almost tight enough to pop it, and settled back down for another episode. This was shaping up to be a long night.
Martin tried desperately not to think about what Helen had so strongly implied. He’d never seen the Distortion be so straightforward about anything. It was plain that she wanted him to know what was happening to him. If the sensations had been too much before Martin knew whose lips and tongue were playing with his cock, now they were absolutely agonizing. He tried to keep his eyes focused on the TV screen, blinking furiously when his eyes blurred with tears.
He imagined what Jon’s life must have been like the last couple days. The man would have had to lock himself in his office to hide his constant activity from his employees. And it had been constant, hadn’t it? Martin gave a hysterical little laugh, imagining Jon, irritated and bristling, working his way through stacks of paper while going at a silicone pussy with an enthusiasm Martin had almost never encountered in real life. Jon was apparently insanely talented. Maybe he’d be interested in the real thing…
No. No, Martin wasn’t letting himself think about that, no, he definitely wasn’t lingering on that impossible scenario, no, no, no—
Well. At least he’d thought to put a towel down before sitting.
— — —
Martin stormed into the Archives at 10:17 exactly, hair still dripping from an ice-cold bath. His bits were truly bruised at this point, flushed a deep purple that Martin didn’t even know was possible. Jon had a lot to answer for.
Jon’s door was locked. Of course it was. It was a little funny the way the mouth on Martin’s clit stilled when he reached up to bang on the door.
“Jon! Open the damn door!”
For the first time since about eight o’clock that morning, the pressure on Martin’s dick fell away. He could have sobbed in relief.
The first thing Martin saw when Jon opened the door were his lips. His red, red spit-slick lips. Martin only realized Jon was speaking when the man stopped.
“What?” Martin’s voice was hoarse.
Jon frowned. “Are you okay, Martin? Is something wrong?”
Martin shook his head. “M’fine. We need to talk. Inside your office, maybe…?”
“Oh! Of course.” Jon practically scrambled out of Martin’s way as he moved to the chair across from Jon’s desk. “It’s, uh, god, it’s good to see you again.”
Martin paused, confused. Oh, right—he’d been avoiding Jon like the plague for the past two months.
Three days ago, Martin might have been buzzing with anxiety, analyzing Jon’s every expression, every hesitant movement he made as he closed the door again and crossed around his desk to sit in front of Martin. Three days ago, Martin had only gotten through a third of the orgasms he’d experienced this month so far. Martin was just so, so beyond this. Fucking Helen.
“Look, did you get a sex toy a few days ago? Spooky mystery Archives sex toy?”
Jon dropped the pen he’d been twisting around his fingers. “W–what?”
Martin rubbed his eyes. “Helen said so. She wanted you to have it.”
If Jon was a cartoon character, he would have deflated like a balloon and wobbled slowly down to fall in a pile on his desk chair. His guilty look was more than enough confirmation for Martin.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Martin groused. Honestly, this man was a mess. “Okay. So the toy is, um, me.”
Jon blinked at him.
“The toy is linked to me. Like a voodoo doll, or something.”
Martin had never seen Jon’s eyes this wide. Maybe he would have had it in himself to feel concerned if he didn’t just feel like one big raw nerve.
Jon’s hand reached out to fumble with his desk drawers while his eyes stayed fixed on a bit of carpet in the opposite direction, as if not seeing what he was pulling out of the drawer was enough to keep this from becoming reality.
The toy was…not what Martin expected. It was almost unsettlingly realistic. Its—his—head was slick with spit, and Martin watched a drop of it slide down to the tip and drip onto the desk.
He picked it up appraisingly and poked the glans with a fingertip and yes, ouch, this was definitely the problem. He looked up at Jon curiously.
“You, uh, you’ve really been going at it, huh?”
Jon’s shoulders were around his ears. It was hard to tell, but Martin thought he could discern a blush. It might have been the way Jon was sitting all curled in on himself, small and cute and nervous-looking but still trying to cling to his dignity, but Martin found himself speaking before he could think over what he was saying.
“You don’t have to go through a proxy. I’d be thrilled, honestly.” Stupid brain. Stupid.
There was a long silence.
“You would?” Jon’s voice was so small that Martin wondered if he’d actually spoken.
Martin felt like his brain was spinning in the air a couple feet over his head. “God, yes! Maybe in, like, a week, though? I feel kind of bruised.”
Jon winced. “Ah. Sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it. It’s definitely not the worst thing I’ve been through because of an Entity. And the fact that it was you made it, uh, better.”
Jon was still a little ball of tension, but Martin thought he saw a tiny pleased smile on the man’s face.
As Martin stood gingerly, Jon scrambled forwards, grabbing a scrap of paper and scribbling something on it. “Martin, wait! Take this. For…in a week?”
Martin felt like his heart was about to burst as he took the phone number from Jon’s scarred hand, then looked up and saw Jon’s open, pleading expression.
“That sounds perfect,” Martin said, and he meant it.
Chapter Four
It wasn’t a surprise to Jon that Martin had massive, soft thighs, but it was one thing to catch a quick glimpse every now and then when the man had been living in the Archives, and entirely another to be snuggled between them, blanket over his back, face tucked into the crease between Martin’s stomach and thigh. Jon never wanted to leave.
His sigh must have tickled Martin, because the man wobbled around him with laughter. Jon smiled and tried to snuggle in closer.
“Hey!” Martin threaded a hand through his hair and pulled him back gently. Jon blinked in the sudden light. “Not that this isn’t great, but, uh, kind of making a puddle here. Did you want to…?”
“Oh! Oh, right. Yes.” Jon scrunched up his eyes. “Sorry. You’re perfect. It’s very distracting.”
He felt Martin’s breath hitch at that, then his stomach jiggled again in a soft laugh. Jon closed his eyes in contentment as the laugh jostled him, too, feeling like seagrass in a current.
Martin really was perfect. It drove him a little crazy to think that this man’s gorgeous, soft, lovely body had been barely inches away countless times over the past few years. Cordoned off by all of the invisible barriers of propriety, but still. Jon would have done almost anything to have Martin if he’d known how nice this would be.
Speaking of having Martin. The man’s hand was still stroking Jon’s hair gently as he shuffled back a little, squishing further down between the thighs almost as big around as his torso. Martin’s dick had been hard for a while, it seemed. Jon brushed back Martin’s bush, lingering on the texture, and for a few moments he just stared, mouth watering. If the toy had looked nice, it was nothing next to Martin. Jon wiggled forwards without fanfare, squishing against Martin’s soft stomach to take him into his mouth.
Oh, this was perfect. Jon felt like he was melting into Martin’s lap. This was worlds better than the toy. Martin kept stroking Jon’s hair as he explored with his tongue, dragging it through all the little folds and creases and pressing it flat over Martin’s clit, poking and stroking and swirling around every bit of him as Jon did his best to catalog what Martin especially liked.
It surprised Jon when Martin came for the first time; he hadn’t even begun to suck yet. He was just rolling his tongue delicately over Martin’s hood when the man curled forwards around him, crushing Jon’s face against his mons. Jon couldn’t breathe. It was wonderful.
Martin pulled him off a couple seconds later, and Jon belatedly noticed the way the man’s legs had been jolting every time Jon touched the head of his clit. He shuffled to the side as best he could and occupied himself with Martin’s stomach while he waited for Martin to recover. Good lord, his skin was soft. There was a cherry-red birthmark just a little below his belly button and Jon felt privileged to mouth at it as Martin came down from his orgasm.
He felt so safe and warm, snuggled up under Martin like this. The man’s thighs pressed in on him from either side, his hands smoothed over Jon’s back, and his stomach was a soft pressure if Jon pushed forwards. It wasn’t long before Martin gave him the go-ahead, and Jon dove back in, losing himself in the simple pleasure of sucking. Martin really was excellent to suck on. Jon was sure this wasn’t the only part of him that would feel incredible in Jon’s mouth, but he could think about that later. For now, he was happy to let his world narrow down to the twitching, moaning softness of Martin around him.
— — —
It was after number three that Martin pulled Jon up to tuck him between his side and the back of the couch. Jon adapted quickly, curling into Martin’s body as the man rested his arm over Jon’s shoulders, holding him close. Martin watched in hazy bemusement as Jon brought his slick fingers to his mouth and began to suck on those instead, and his eyes, slightly glazed over, closed in satisfaction. How can he possibly be this cute, Martin thought.
Whatever the reason, Jon looked just as dazed as Martin felt. It warmed him to think that Jon was enjoying this just as much as he was.
Jon was making little slurping noises around the fingers in his mouth. It was beginning to do things to Martin, even exhausted as he was.
“Hey, Jon?”
“Hmm?” Jon’s eyes stayed closed.
“Okay, so I’m definitely done for today, but you can still suck on me if you like?”
Martin winced. Something inside him looked on in horror as he opened his mouth to try again. “Uh, if there’s something you’d prefer over your own fingers? I’m, um, I’m right here.”
Jon looked up at him. Martin looked away, red-faced, but his gaze landed on Jon’s wrinkled fingers and he flushed even darker. God, he’d just had sex with this man, why was this so awkward?
It surprised him a little when Jon reached over to grab his other hand, curling down his pinkie and ring finger and…popping his fingers in his mouth. Martin forgot to breathe for a moment.
He felt Jon’s sigh on the back of his hand and something warm stirred in his chest. Martin had never had fingers in Jon’s mouth before, but he’d spent enough time with that sweet wet warmth on his cock that it felt familiar. Comforting, even. Fortunately, Jon seemed to agree. He looked just as blissed out as Martin felt, the lines of his forehead smoothed out for once as he sucked Martin’s fingers deeper into his mouth and laved at the pads with his tongue.
Martin watched him for a long moment, feeling overwhelmed with affection for this strange little man. Something he’d never felt before bloomed in his chest as he cradled Jon closer against him and began thrusting just slightly into the man’s mouth. Jon’s enthusiastic hum and renewed sucking was almost too much for Martin, whose cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling.
Martin thought he’d never felt kinder or more powerful than he did right now, with Jon soft and happy in his arms.
— — —
“You want me to have this?” Jon cradled the toy reverently, uncertainty in his big brown eyes. Martin tried very hard not to kiss him again.
“Yeah, if you want? You seemed to really like it. Just text me first. I probably won’t say yes if it’s during work hours, and the constant stuff was a bit much, but yeah.”
Jon’s eyebrows shot up. “Probably?”
Martin took a minute to remember when he’d used the word, then blushed violently. “H–hey! I’m—I mean, sometimes I think it would be nice, just to, ah, duck into a bathroom—”
“Tell me,” Jon said fervently. “Please. I promise, there’s never a time when I wouldn’t be thrilled. You should text me.”
Martin was stunned into silence. The possibilities played out in his mind’s eye with crystal clarity. It took a few seconds before he noticed he’d gone quiet. “Oh, god, Jon, I will.”
“Good.” Jon took a moment to make sure the toy’s cap was secure before holding it uncertainly over his work bag. “Do you want me to bring it with me today?”
Martin nodded sheepishly, twisting the strap of his own satchel between his hands. He was fully dressed for work, as was Jon, but this conversation had him feeling naked. Martin wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. “That’s not a promise, though,” he added.
Jon bumped his head gently against Martin’s shoulder. “Of course not, love.”
Martin knew he spent most of their commute staring at the back of Jon’s head with the most besotted expression on his face. He didn’t care.